Grabbing water drops from a waterfall of thoughts

I should be doing something. I don’t know what, there’s always something to do. I feel jittery, full of energy, but it takes so much effort to get off the damned couch. It’s both irritating and confusing to feel this way. Do I run around the house full bore, cleaning and multitasking while forgetting where I’m going? Do I stay where I am, lost in my own thoughts? I choose to stay put, and type instead. The laptop was sitting beside me anyways, might as well put it to use.

A pile of clean laundry glares at me from across the living room, waiting to be folded and put away. A “Guardians of the Galaxy” movie poster lays beside the laundry, half uncurled. My daughter’s pony castle sits atop the laundry mountain, I forgot to put it back on the floor after sweeping. The laundry needs to be switched and a new load added to the wash. Dishwasher needs to be emptied and reloaded. Counters need to be cleaned. Entrances need to be vacuumed, along with the play room and den. Dirty laundry to be gathered. I can go on, but it’s painful just to list off what I have yet to do. I love staying at home full time, I really do. I enjoy mopping floors, dancing while vacuuming and prepping meals, but most of all I love being with my children. They are the whole reason why I stay at home.

^^^^ That was as far as I got for an entry yesterday. I had an energy spike and tackled the laundry monster that was eating my sofa, and puttered around with intent. My lovely cat Felix now lays sleeping where the laundry once was. I didn’t get much done, I guess. Dishwasher’s still clean, laundry’s still in the washer and dryer, and two neatly folded piles are on the sofa. Gotta love scatterbrained mixed episodes. I have physical symptoms of severe depression and manic behaviour. On top of that I am sick, some kind of virus my Munchkins shared with me. … Sharing is caring. Lol! Munchkins are both sick too, they’ve been home from school all week.

My body feels like it’s having a muted pain episode, my joints ache and even trying to relax is uncomfortable. I am thankful for Cymbalta and Abilify, for they are keeping me functional. My brain feels swollen from all of the random thoughts, lists, ideas, regrets, worries, DBT skills, and whatever else is racing through my mind. Plucking thoughts from my mind is like trying to pick water drops from a gushing waterfall. So many at once, it’s dizzying.

I have to get up. There’s work to be done. What to do first? Munchkins are enjoying lollipops, so lunch will come later. I don’t want to move. I just want to sit and exist. Curl up in a ball under the covers and hibernate until the sickness subsides and my moods level out. I can’t. I need to be strong, even when I’m feeling so weak. Just do it. Make a pot of green tea, and just give’r. I guess while I’m sitting I can make a list of things to do and then I can plug away at them. I should make cookies and muffins, the kids were asking about baking with me today. We forgot family game night last night! Better bust out the Jenga soon.

Ugh, my brain! Stop it! Right, make a list and then get things done. Wish me luck. Ta Ta For Now!

A Candle In a World of Darkness

I have pondered starting a blog or diary of some sort for a few years now, but every time I sit down to write, I draw a blank. Not today. Last evening I had an interesting conversation with my hubby, and it got the wheels turning on different ideas and thoughts I have in my head. One subject we touched was patterns in my behaviour that we have noticed in the last while. We both noticed the same pattern but were seeing it from different perspectives. The said pattern is that when I am avoiding intimacy, I tend to bury my nose into a book or zone out on my cell phone. Hubby pointed out that when I am not in the mood, I distract myself with books, knowledge, and less positive subjects that tend to turn me off of intimacy. I saw his perspective, only from mine it wasn’t about avoiding intimacy. It was about avoidance of my thoughts and being generally withdrawn, which is a sign I’m in my downward spiral. Yep, I knew it. I’ve felt it for over a week now, but I was hoping the meds would stop me from falling down the rabbit hole.  I asked him if he had noticed that said pattern tends to coincide with my depressive episodes.

You see, I’m different from other people. I am what you would typically call crazy. The professionals call it bipolar disorder II ultra-rapid cycling (severe form of type 2 manic depression), and borderline personality disorder. I call it my life. Sometimes I feel as if I am crazy, and at other times I feel like I am one of the last sane humans in a world gone mad. I have researched my “disorders”, among other things. Research is one of my obsessions, by the way. I now understand why my moods tend to be volatile and why I have certain quirks. Nothing takes the wind out of your sails like a psychiatrist and therapist telling you that your quirks are not actual quirks but symptoms of mental illness. I’m not unique, I’m just crazy. However, that is their perspective. I’m the one living with these “illnesses” and dammit I am going to live positively, sicknesses and all.

Oh yeah, back to my conversation with Hubby. I tend to go off on random tangents then forget where I was. Another tidbit that came up in conversation was the fact that I tend to get interrupted, cut off mid sentence. Whomever interrupts me starts talking, I’ll stop so as not to interrupt them (it must be of importance for them to cut me off like that), and the conversation continues from there without a thought to what I was originally saying. It’s been like that as long as I can remember. Even as a young child, I always wondered why people would interrupt me. I didn’t like to intrude on conversations, and I certainly waited my turn to speak. I used to think that people couldn’t hear me, I was not loud enough. I raised my voice, and it didn’t change a thing. I just recently turned thirty, and nothing’s changed. My kids interrupt me multiple times throughout the day. I don’t get upset with them, they are my children and usually they interject because they’re so animated about the conversation it’s as if their thoughts being contained are hurting them so they need to release it, even if that means interrupting Momma.

That topic got me thinking of how many of my friends don’t listen to me when I talk, yet expect me to listen to them for hours on end about anything and everything. I am lucky, for Hubby is my best friend. We are always there for each other, when one of us is weak the other is the uplifting rock. I am also lucky to have a supportive family (both his and mine), and a few besties. My other friends are just that, other friends. I’m their “therapist”, I just don’t charge them for my hours. Lately, I’ve been debating it. When all is well with them or I need someone to listen or talk to for advice, they vanish. I know when things go sour for them, because my cell phone will go off with texts and phone calls. All of a sudden I’m popular! Time to put on the kettle for tea, I’m having a visitor. My visit turns out to be several hours of a friend venting and bitching about whatever is their issue of the day/week/month. I’ll try and get in a few words, whether it’s advice, my opinion, sympathy, relating to them, etc…. I can barely say a peep. Texting is much easier to get my point across, for it is rather difficult to ignore a bubble of words glaring at you. When I do manage to talk, I know they can hear me. Once their crisis has been averted and I have made them laugh, it’s time for them to vanish. Oh, would you look at the time? Gotta run, thanks for listening, you’re the best! What would I do without you? You’re the only one who understands. You’re the only one who listens. I’ve heard all of it. But, do they ever hear me? How do I make myself be heard? Maybe I’m not supposed to voice my thoughts. Nah… I’m too bitchy, sarcastic, and dirty minded to keep quiet. Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet.

Where was I? I talked about interrupting and not being able to be listened, alright then, onto my next thought bubble. I think I have been viewing this from the wrong perspective. Perhaps I need to view this from a more positive point. I tend to feel invalidated whenever I am used as a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a therapist. I feel used and abused when the same people I drop practically anything for when they need something are never able to return the favour when I need someone. Maybe I should feel happy that they chose me as the person they need to uplift their spirits. I am their candle of light in a world of darkness. I am their sparkle in the shadow. I am no hero or saviour, that’s for damned sure. These friends are not the type of people who use others like Kleenex and throw them away. These are friends that come over for barbeques, our husbands are buddies (I’m buddies with the hubbies too), and our children play together. My friends are not heartless, nor selfish – well, not completely anyway. One friend is rather selfish but she has a multitude of her own issues and I don’t think she can really see past herself to notice that the world does in fact revolve around the sun and not her. But that’s another story for another post.

I think I know my purpose in life; I am a helper. I don’t need the spotlight, nor do I want it. I am the sparkle of guidance. Time and time again, I help others by listening, offering comfort, and guidance. I have been thanked more than once for being the only one there for them. They’re not alone. I don’t think anyone is ever completely alone; it’s that they are putting up mental walls and shutting people out. I just know how to bust through the walls.

Perhaps this is all crazy talk, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it does make sense. It makes sense to me right now. I don’t know. Knowing me, my moods will flip and I’ll think up something else crazy and unconventional that doesn’t make sense to anyone but me. Who knows?

Click Here if You Want to Know More About Me


Soooo, you want to know more about me? What can I say, I am a (little) bundle of crazy. Perhaps, if I may quote Anne Frank, “I am a little bundle of contradictions.” Translated to English, mind you. Yes, maybe that fits better. I have a contradicting personality, you see. When I have thoughts, I see different viewpoints that tend to contradict each other. I can see both sides to a debate. In that aspect, I am a contradiction. When it comes to matters with mood swings, again I am a contradiction. It depends on my mood. Everything depends on my mood.

There we go, something about me: I am emotional. Extremely emotional, and sensitive. A huge part of that stems from my conditions. I have bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder, among other illnesses. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw me. I hide it well. I learned how to do that years ago. Put on your mask and face the world. I still wear my mask at times, when I need to for my own protection. I’m an empath, an emotional sponge. I need to wear a mask around toxic people or people with toxic behaviours, I should say. I believe there is good in everyone. Some people may not believe in themselves to see it or believe in others, but I do.

There’s a few things about me that you didn’t know before; you learn something new every day.

Here’s some more tidbits:

I love my life, my family, and my friends. I am happy and I choose to be happy. I could be miserable, it’s so easy to pick out the flaws in life and all of the shortcomings. I focus on the positive. Yes, I am a borderline bipolar panda but that’s just part of who I am. My conditions don’t define me, and they will not destroy me. My son is high-functioning Autistic and that is a part of who he is, but it doesn’t define him. There is so much more to life than a diagnosis. Focus on the good stuff and work on the not so good stuff.

Hmmm, what else is there to know about me?

I love my children. I am spiritual. I am an insomniac. I have a fondness for all animals, and nature. I love chocolate. I dislike beets. I enjoy baking and going for bike rides. I love snuggles and reading books to my children. I am a nerd, nymphomaniac, and an introvert. I loooove chicken fingers and poutine. I’m a Pisces. Bubbles and shiny things distract me. I keep a stash of bubble wrap in different areas of my house for when I feel stressed. I have an addiction to cutting/self harm. I am terrified of Howard the Duck.